Thursday, March 10, 2016

There's a bird in my dryer vent right now. I can hear him clawing his way around, clink-clinking against the metal. Fluttering occasionally. I don't know if he's stuck in there or coming and going in an effort to set up house, but his presence is rattling me.

It's not the bird. The bird is just the omen, the town crier. I am rattled.

I see the 18th of March creeping up, waiting to pounce. I felt it physically before I realized we were in the month. The horrible month.

It's hard to believe it's been two years. I have come so far, yet it feels like I am standing still, running in place. The dream I thought would have died by now persists, insists. It will not be forgotten.

I have carried on in so many ways. H is happy. My work is fulfilling and flourishing. My marriage is strong. I have worked my way back to physical fitness. And yet there is, as they say, always something there to remind me. I changed that day. Something was lost. I don't know if having a baby at this point would even help me get it back.

The other day, a relative sent me a story about a group of women not far from where I live, who are serving as temporary foster mothers for infants while their birth mothers decide what to do with them. The babies come to them for days, weeks, maybe months, then back to their birth mothers or to adoptive families. It's lovely that there are people who can do this, but I am not one of them. Am I supposed to take from this that my relative thinks this is a nice consolation prize for me? She has the two kids she's always wanted...I get a second baby on loan, with recurrent separation trauma. Oops, there's the anger.

Here's the sadness. The other day, out of nowhere, H told me he gets lonely being the only child. That he wants a brother. I told him that if we got a brother now, he would be a baby. It would be a long time before he could play. He said that was okay. I said we would try, but sometimes it's really hard to get a baby.

About Me

Thanks to the marvels of modern medical science and a general distaste for failure, I beat PCOS-related infertility into submission and welcomed my son H in 2010. I've been trying for the past three years to give him a sibling, but the universe seems to have a different idea. With a devastating 18-week loss in March 2014, am currently reevaluating our path forward.